


Desperation

by humanveil



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Implied Sexual Content, Light Bondage, M/M, Omorashi, Wetting, possibly dub con themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:37:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6774799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's something he doesn't get to participate in often, and... Well, Hannibal was curious what would happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperation

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those "what have I done" fics, but I have a Thing, where I want to try and write all the kinks to see where I draw the line, and this was next on the list. I'm yet to draw the line. Maybe next time.
> 
> I think there might be some dub-con themes, so yeah. Be cautious.

Will wakes to a light breeze against his skin, wind coming in through the bedroom’s open window and hitting what’s exposed of his naked body. He can hear Hannibal next to him, the familiar light snores filling the air between them.

It’s calming, or it would be, if his hands weren’t still tied to the bedframe, black, silken rope wrapped securely around each wrist. Or if his crotch wasn’t pulsing with the urge to piss.

It’s… odd, to wake up still bound. Hannibal usually removed the restraints when they were done playing, would usually kiss the red marks they left on Will’ body, lips moving gently against the irritated skin, before packing the supplies away for next time.

Will had passed out mere minutes after his orgasm, meaning he hadn’t been awake to remind Hannibal to do it, so he supposes it’s not completely abnormal.  And the restraints themselves aren’t so bad, he muses. The rope is still smooth against his skin, leaving only a light burn behind. His hands are pinned near the bottom of the headboard, the position meaning there wasn’t an ache in his shoulders or back, for which he was thankful.  

No, the more pressing matter is that his body aches with the need to relieve himself, and that he can’t free his hands to move to the bathroom.

Nevertheless, he spends a few minutes trying, embarrassed to wake Hannibal up for _that_. His fingers move to scratch at the rope, to try and loosen it enough to slip free, but his hands are too far apart to do much, the restraints expertly tied to keep him in place.

The pressure builds with each movement, the familiar ache increasing to the point of desperation as time goes on. He bites his lip to stop a whimper, and crosses his legs together under the blanket, squeezing himself in a futile attempt to stop what he knows will likely come.

The more Will moves, the worse his desperation gets, so he stops fidgeting and lies still, body curled in on itself and legs pressed tightly together. Taking a deep breath, he turns to Hannibal’s sleeping form, voice a desperate whisper when he says, “ _Hannibal_.”

Hannibal doesn’t move, doesn’t wake up, and Will almost whimpers again. The need to piss only grows stronger as he thinks about it, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold it for much longer. Urgently, he calls Hannibal’s name again, a low groan leaving his mouth when there’s still no response.

He doesn’t want to wet the bed, is scared of what Hannibal would think of him afterwards. It’s just… not something he wants to do with other people around; hardly something he wants to do on his own.

In another attempt to wake the older man, he squirms towards him, only to stop abruptly when a small trickle of warm fluid escapes him, landing on his thigh and dripping onto the sheets. He gasps as it happens, eyes shutting against the momentary relief, the subsequent pain of holding it again. Teeth clenched, he grounds out Hannibal's name once more; past desperation, at this point.

Finally, _finally,_ Hannibal wakes at his voice. He turns to Will, eyebrow cocked as he looks him over, realisation dawning on his face. “Is everything alright, Will?”

“Untie me,” Will rasps, legs squeezed so tight together it’s almost painful. “Please.”

Hannibal leans closer to him, pushing the blanket off completely. His eyes trail down the span of Will’s skin, noticing the little mess he’d already made.

“Hannibal, please,” Will says, avoiding eye contact. “I think I can make it, but you need to untie me _now_.”

His voice is strained, tainted with desperation, and Hannibal’s lips twitch with the slightest of smirks. Hannibal reaches a hand out, but doesn’t reach to Will’s bound wrists.  Instead, it stops on Will’s lower abdomen, hovering _just_ above the skin _._

“Hann—” Will starts, and then stops as he feels himself almost leak again. He looks at the other man, brow knitted, almost pleading when he asks; “What are you doing?”

“Is this not what you want?”

“I—” he cuts off with a gasp as Hannibal’s fingers make contact with his skin, the slightest of presses making more fluid leave his body. A small, embarrassed whimper escapes his lips as he leaks, and he turns his head away from Hannibal.

“You’ve already made a mess,” Hannibal murmurs. “You may as well make more.”

Will has no time to reply, as in the next moment, Hannibal’s hand presses down against his bladder, and any chance of holding his piss disappears in an instant. It comes from him quickly, spurting down his legs and onto the bed. Will sees no point in hiding now, so he lets his legs rest apart, drops his head back against the pillows, and allows a long, quiet moan to leave his mouth at the relief of _finally_ letting go. He’s still embarrassed, ashamed, almost, for Hannibal to be watching him, but he can’t help his reaction.

It seems to go on forever, the room filling with the tell-tale sound and smell of piss. The fluid wets him and the bed, and, undoubtedly, Hannibal as well. He can feel the other man’s eyes on him throughout the act, burning holes into his skin, and a light flush colours his face. He has no idea why Hannibal would prompt it, knows it’s not technically his fault, yet, when it finally stops, he can’t bring himself to do anything. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even look towards Hannibal. _Can’t_.

“Better?” Hannibal asks him, the question casual, as if they were discussing something trivial.

Will just groans, the noise not giving much of anything away, and continues to lie back. It’s not as if he has much of a choice, with his hands still bound.

Hannibal smiles and removes his hand from Will’s stomach to reach for his wrists. Finally, he unties the fabric before grasping each of Will’s hands and holding them in his own. “Better?” he asks once more, voice quiet.

Jaw twitching, Will answers with a simple, “Yes.”

Hannibal nods, bringing one wrist to his lips and placing a kiss to the irritated skin. “Did you like it?”

Will watches his movements, the way the lips drag against his skin, and tilts his head to the side. “You did this on purpose?”

Hannibal pauses for a moment, looking between Will’s face and the wet, messy sheets. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to see how you would react,” Hannibal admits. “I thought you might enjoy it.”

“ _Why?”_

Hannibal doesn’t answer his question. Rather, he continues to stare down at Will, his expression mirthful. “Did you?”

Will opens his mouth to reply, but stops, unwilling to give Hannibal the satisfaction of an affirmative answer. Instead, he sighs, shaking his head minutely. “I need a shower.”

The look in Hannibal’s eyes tells him the other man doesn’t need a verbal answer, his body’s reaction giving away enough for a sensible deduction. Thankfully, he doesn’t tease him about it just yet.

Instead, he merely nods, moving to stand next to the bed. He looks Will over once last time before saying, “That can be arranged.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry? Also, practice safe bondage. 
> 
> It's four am, so I'm going to blame any and all mistakes on that fact.  
> As always, comments/kudos appreciated!


End file.
